This Sort of Behavior
by hikomokushi
Summary: It was her time to be comforted by the touch of another. [KakaSaku][drabble]


**Title:** This Sort of Behavior  
**Author:** Hiko Mokushi  
**Pairing:** Hatake Kakashi x Haruno Sakura  
**Rating:** G  
**Disclaimer:** Kishimoto-sensei owns Naruto.  
**Summary:** It was her time to be comforted by the touch of another.

**Author Notes:** Well, yea. Just kinda random. Didn't really fit into either of what I wanted in **30romances** or **50scenes**.

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Her father had often tried to rest his hand on her head.

She was his child, his baby girl, the little one that he wanted to protect and dote upon. So what if she didn't like that his hand was heavy and made her neck hurt? When she was close enough for him to drop his palm casually onto her head and pretend she was an armrest, then she was always close enough for him to keep her safe.

It felt odd not to have that same comforting, ever-present person at her side, ever-present weight against her head.

Her mother had often tried to kiss her in public.

How many times she'd had to run into the bathroom and wet a paper towel to wipe lips from her cheeks. She was an adult, she was not a child! "You'll always be my little girl" was the woman's effervescent motto and she'd just laugh, eyes twinkling as she winked to everyone present that her little one was growing up so fast.

She ached to be able to glance into a mirror again and see the smudged crimson of lipstick on her face.

Naruto often tried to hug her.

There was something in his grasping hands that had compelled her to pull away. He was too clingy, he was too dirty; he often tried to cop a feel without even meaning to. She'd often wondered if it was because of his lack of physical contact as a child. Who had been there to hold him, touch him, love him?

She let him embrace her, glad that even though she struggled internally, she could provide him some comfort.

Lee often tried to hold her hand.

He was a loser, she'd said that from the beginning, and rather a little of a freak. Growing up under Gai-sensei had been detrimental to his personality, and he seemed to not know how to act normally around other people. His affections of her caused him to act even less 'heroic' and more 'embarrassing' than she could imagine.

But she'd seen the pain, the tears in his eyes, his injured body and soul—perhaps with a hand she could hold him up.

It wasn't until she'd found a broken, beaten, bloody Sasuke returning to them in the middle of the night that she'd realized she'd grown used to providing other people comfort even if it made her twitch.

The boy had needed it; he'd clung to her as though she were the last person on earth he could trust. His tears dried on her shoulder, blood on her shirt; he fell asleep in her arms and despite the urge she felt to turn away and leave him alone, she felt compelled to stay, to soothe him, to ensure him that he was alright and he was safe.

Public displays of affection had never been her forte. Such conduct was unacceptable.

"Sakura, what are you doing?"

She ignored his whispered question and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The young woman pressed his body up against him, and, confused, the Copy ninja complied by slowly sliding an arm around her back. It other raised and brushed against her face, trying to see her face.

She shook away the tears that threatened to leak from her eyes. "You're okay. . .! I was s-s-so so worried!" Her arms tightened as she spoke, voice breaking. "I was so. . . I couldn't. . .—"

The man closed his eyes, sighing as he tugged her closer and pressed his masked lips against her lips to silence her, breathing in her love, her warmth, the way she felt and fitted against him. She pressed against his touch, fed on it, unable to even focus on anything but the way his hands and lips were on her body.

"I'm sorry, Kakashi," she whispered, pulling back momentarily to notice they'd drawn a small crowd of ninja and civilians at the gates.

"It's okay. I'm okay. Don't apologize." He kissed her again quietly, smirking against her lips. "You should greet me like this every mission."'

The stares, the glances, the furrowed brows—it didn't matter. None of this was proper, but she laughed through her tears and tugged his mask down, using her hands to block his face from view as she pressed her lips against his again. Everything faded until it was just her and him and the way he made her feel. A hug, a kiss, a look, a glance; it was love and who cared for the rules when her body totally and completely agreed with her.


End file.
